Chapter 10
The next morning, over my second cup of black coffee, I kiss Philip goodbye and wish him a happy, productive day.
“And you as well,” he says over the dog-eared corner of our local newspaper, The Milestone Review.
I empty the last bitter dregs of my coffee into the sink and have to stand on my tiptoes to see past the edge of the skeletal birch trees in our front yard to where a black BMW—my transportation for the next ten hours—idles in the driveway, waiting for me.
“Nice set of wheels,” Philip says, coming up behind me, nuzzling me on the neck with his scruffy beard.
“Thank goodness my publisher is footing the bill and not me.” I whirl around and wrap Philip in my arms. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“You’ll be back home soon. It’s one of the sacrifices of a writer’s life.”
